October Is The Fallen Leaf, But It

For All His Learning Or Sophistication, Man Still Instinctively Reaches Towards That Force Beyond. Only Arrogance Can Deny Its Existence, And The Denial Falters In The Face Of Evidence On Every Hand. In Every Tuft Of Grass, In Every Bird, In Every Opening Bud, There It Is.

March Is A Tomboy With Tousled Hair, A Mischievous Smile, Mud On Her Shoes And A Laugh In Her Voice.

Here And There One Sees The Blush Of Wild Rose Haws Or The Warmth Of Orange Fruit On The Bittersweet, And Back In The Woods Is The Occasional Twinkle Of Partridgeberries. But They Are The Gem Stones, The Rare Decorations Which Make The Grays, The Browns And The Greens Seem Even More Quiet, More Completely At Rest.

There Are Some Things, But Not Too Many, Toward Which The Countryman Knows He Must Be Properly Respectful If He Would Avoid Pain, Sickness And Injury. Nature Is Neither Punitive Nor Solicitous, But She Has Thorns And Fangs As Wells As Bowers And Grassy Banks.

Nothing In Nature Is As Simple As It Sometimes Seems When Reduced To Words.